


A Perculiar Afternoon

by eutony_in_a_basket_case



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: A lacy lucy, Consensual Kink, F/M, George and Quill love to hate each other, Joe gets stabbed as usual because that's his job, Light Bondage, Lockwood is a loving bastard, Lucy loves being loved, Lucy wears lace, Lunch, My First AO3 Post, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Portland row - Freeform, Quill loves pie, Sex, i guess, if you will, just lockwood being lockwood, oh god they're roommates, takes place after TEG, very very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eutony_in_a_basket_case/pseuds/eutony_in_a_basket_case
Summary: It's porn without plot and you want a summary?
Relationships: Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	A Perculiar Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I have never posted a fanfic and my anxiety is through the roof. I just hope it's long enough

“I have something I want to try this afternoon.”  
The memory of Lockwood’s whisper in her ear sent a jolt through Lucy’s arm. The tip of her rapier missed Joe’s chest, instead sliding against his side and striking the wall behind them. Her face heated as she lunged against, rapier connecting with the straw. She needed to focus, to practice working with Lockwood without remembering the taste of his lips or how his curls felt between her fingers or how he—  
“Ack!” she groaned as her rapier tip hit the wall again. She threw it into the corner, sighing heavily.  
“Oi. What did that rapier ever do to you?”  
Lucy whirled to the staircase where George was poking his head through the doorway. He wore his cooking apron which was covered in a variety of food and chemical stains. His glasses were clean despite some remnants of flour on his face.  
“It kept missing,” she muttered.  
“Well, I made a meat pie. I guess I’ll cut it up myself because I no longer trust you with sharp objects.”  
“That’s not true!”  
“You can’t even hit a straw ghost.”  
Lucy scowled at him. “I’ll be up in a minute.”  
George adjusted his glasses and clambered back up the stairs. Lucy picked up the offending rapier and placed it nicely back in the corner before hopping up the stairs after him. Lockwood was already in his regular seat, reading through a newspaper and sipping tea. Holly had taken a sick day, which pushed tonight’s mission back because it required all hands on deck. George had apparently decided to spend the day cooking. Lucy spied a rack of biscuits cooling on the counter and some small pastries rising from where they precariously perched atop a nearby shelf. Not to mention the mountain of dishes stacked in the sink.  
Lucy slid into her seat and quietly accepted a piece of pie as Quill handed it to her. “Hey, didn’t you have plans for today?”  
Quill raised a battered eyebrow at her. “Yeah, they’re a little bit later. And although it would take the entire Archive to catalog his faults, Cubbins makes…. edible food.”  
“Oh, edible?” George pointed a spatula at Quill’s face. “You eat it like you’re a starving orphan and it’s ambrosia.”  
Lucy glanced at Lockwood and found him glancing back with a similar apprehension in his eyes. George and Quill could get into it for hours if they didn’t break it up.  
She picked up her fork and pointed it at them. “If you don’t shut up and play nice, I will put you both inside the next meat pie.”  
“Quill might like that,” Lockwood said, his paper now held in such a way to obscure his face. “We don’t know.”  
Quill and George stared at Lockwood equal parts aghast, disgust, and repulsion. Even Lucy found herself looking at Lockwood with the titled head. For his part, Lockwood just folded up the paper. “Come on, food’s getting cold.”  
“You can’t just say something like that and expect us to get over it!” Quill sputtered. “What is that even supposed to mean?”  
To his credit, Lockwood twisted his mouth in an embarrassed grimace. “I dunno. I thought it was funny.”  
“It wasn’t,” George said. “Witty, yes, but not funny. Quill will have to tell us if you’re correct.”  
“I don’t have to dignify that with a response,” Quill grumbled  
“True,” Lucy said around a pie. “You don’t, you can just eat the delicious pie and leave before George decides to poison the next one.”  
“Well that’s just not fair,” Lockwood said. “George would never poison someone.”  
“I would think you’d know me better than that by now, Lockwood,” George replied simply, sitting down between him and Quill.  
For his part, their redheaded friend only scowled at George, munching on his lunch. George, deadpan and keeping eye contact, took a bit. Lucy stared at her plate and wondered for the billionth time what she must have done in a past life to somehow get stuck with both George and Quill in her friend group.  
She ate her lunch quickly and hurriedly escaped the kitchen.  
Her rapier training followed by lunch left her leggings and shirt sticking to her skin. Pointedly not looking at Lockwood, she left the kitchen and headed upstairs, contemplating what to do. Although Lockwood’s comment was only the shadow of a promise, she didn’t want to waste a shower just to get sweaty again. Entering her little attic room, she chucked off her clothes in the vague direction of the dirty clothes corner before heading into the bathroom. A wet washcloth wipe-down would be good enough.  
As Lucy padded out back into her room, she heard the front door shut loudly. That’d be George and Quill leaving, she knew. Quill had his plans and George was going to do George things are the Archives.  
That just left her and Lockwood.  
A familiar tingling excitement ran down her back. Trying to ignore it, Lucy pulled open her underwear drawer and almost pulled out her regular, cheap, sturdy bra and sensible panties. Her eyes instead landed on the thin lacey set Holly had given her. They had apparently been part of a sale at one of her regular shoppes, so she’d picked them up and told Lucy that she “should have a pair, just for special occasions.”  
Best not to let herself think about it too long. Lucy grabbed the set and pulled them on. At least Holly hadn’t gone overboard. The lace was soft and subtle and plain black. In fact, as Lucy looked down at herself, she thought they looked pretty good on her. Even as she pulled on her leggings and shirt, she felt different. More confident, maybe, or self-assured. She should wear these more often.  
She glanced at the door. In fact, if Lockwood wanted her, he could come and find her. There was no reason for her to go seek him out.  
As it turns out, waiting was unnecessary. Lucy had scarcely set herself down on the bed, a magazine in hand, when a light knock rapped on her door. Whatever confidence the underwear had given her quickly evaporated as she made her way to the door and opened it.  
Lockwood grinned down at her, black eyes gleaming. “Hi Luce.”  
She tried to look nonchalant. “Hi. What brings you up here?”  
“Did you think I’d make you wait all day?”  
“You’ve done worse.”  
“That was one time, it was George’s fault, and you know it. I would never intentionally do that to you.”  
“Hmm.” Lucy folded her arms and leaned against her door frame. “You said you had something you wanted to try.”  
“Well, yes.” Lockwood’s ear steadily became redder as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “But if you don’t want to, that’s fine. It was just an idea and I don’t—”  
“Lockwood. You haven’t told me what your idea is.”  
He carefully pulled two long ribbons from his pocket. “You always get so handsy before I feel done kissing you, so I thought… what if your hands were out of the way?”  
Her spine straightened as she looked at the silky blue ribbons. “You… you want to tie me up?”  
Lockwood grimaced. “You don’t want to. That’s fine, really, it was just a silly notion—”  
“With a ribbon?”  
“As opposed to what? Chains? You’re not a ghost.”  
Lucy stared at the ribbon. “I thought you liked my hands.”  
Lockwood stepped into the doorway, tucking a lock of hair behind her hair. “I love your hands. But we have an entire afternoon off. George is researching for our open cases and our appointment this afternoon canceled. And your hands…”  
“What about them?”  
“Well, they make it extremely difficult to pace myself. And I would like to take my time getting my fill of you.”  
The steadiness in his gaze made her knees quiver. Heat filled her face and torso as she took a long second to imagine herself, hands bound, completely at Lockwood’s mercy. She trusted him with her life, but this method of vulnerability was new.  
Lockwood’s hand encircled her waist. “We don’t have to. It was a silly idea.”  
His chest was warm against hers; the reliable pressure of his hand was on her waist. Safe.  
Why not give it a shot?  
Lucy tilted her head up to catch his lips with hers. “Promise you’ll untie me when I say so?”  
His breath warmed her skin. “Promise.”  
She tugged him into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Lockwood’s hands fit perfectly against her hips as he leaned over her, chastely kissing beneath her ear. The heat in her face seemed to trail down her chest and into her stomach. She leaned her head to the side, revealing a strip of skin between her sweater and hair. His lips were soft and light against her skin, almost curious and investigative. His hands drifted up slowly, dragging across her skirt as they rolled the hem of her sweater up,  
“Who’s the handsy one now?” she murmured, grinning as his fingers brushed against her stomach.  
Lockwood chuckled against her shoulder. “I hope you know that I adore you.”  
“You do mention that quite a bit.”  
Lucy’s heart started fluttering as Lockwood pulled her closer to the bed. So often, they met up in his room. The idea of him being here, with her, in this space that felt so much like hers, sent a warm tendril through her chest. He was here with her, not the other way around. She could probably untangle the emotion more if she wanted to, but as Lockwood spun her around, catching her lips fiercely against his own, she decided she could ponder later.  
Her fingers ran down the musculature of his back as he explored her mouth, teeth grazing her lips and tongue running against hers. She tried not to moan as her body suddenly realized where this was going. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, quickly undoing them as he finally pulled his mouth away.  
“Am I going too fast for you?” she asked as the last buttons revealed the full expanse of his torso.  
“No,” he said. “Just the right amount for now.”  
Lockwood’s fingers gripped the hem of her sweater and started pulling it up. Lucy started on the sleeves and pulled it over her head quickly.  
“Oh!” he cooed, tossing the sweater away and beholding her bra. “Lace? That’s not usually your style.”  
“Yes, well, I thought—I thought you—” Lucy lost her train of thought as Lockwood’s slender hands gripped her breasts and squeezed softly. His thumb ran over her nipple.  
“I’m tempted to tell you to wear them all the time,” he whispered, bare torso mere inches from hers, “but I’m afraid if you do, I’ll never get any work done. I’d just be imagining you--” and he paused to press a long kiss to the soft skin beneath her ear “—like this all the time.”  
Her entire body throbbed. She wanted him on top of her, underneath her, anywhere so long as he could be inside her. She wanted him. Not just anyone could satisfy this carnal, primal want. Just him and his floppy hair and crooked grin and solid chest and unafraid nature. Lucy gripped the open sides of his shirt, pulling him back to her bed.  
When the back of her knees bumped the edge of the mattress, she looked up at his dark, steady gaze. He gently kissed her, pushing her onto the mattress and towards the headboard. She adjusted her position, awkwardly lifting her arms over her head to grip the iron frame of her bed.  
Almost instantly, Lockwood was on her, knees straddling her hips, gently binding her hands with the silky ribbons. “I’m just using a shoelace knot,” he told her. “You’ll be able to get out if you need to.”  
“But you promised you would untie me if I asked.”  
“Yes.” He cupped her face in his warm hand. “But I also know that sometimes you lost the ability to talk clearly when I do things like this.”  
He palmed her breast again, harder than before, pinching her nipple. Lucy found herself unable to respond as the pleasure and desire wrapped around her. Her heart pounded against her ribs as he settled over her, chest warm against hers, chuckling.  
“See what I mean?”  
Lockwood didn’t wait for a reply as his lips found her collarbone, her throat, her shoulders. There was no room in her mind for self-consciousness or uncertainty about her bound hands. Everything was focused on the way Lockwood dragged his mouth over her skin, inspecting the little freckles on her shoulders. Lucy clenched her thighs together, desperately needing any friction between her legs. Lockwood hummed merrily against her arm as he kissed her bicep. The air seemed stuck in her throat as he trailed kisses down her side, her stomach, and to the waistband of her leggings.  
This was certainly slower than what usually happened. Her skin prickled with little goosebumps in the wake of his hands and mouth. She wasn’t sure he’d ever kissed her on the stomach or waist. Certainly not her ribs or arms like this. It was taunting, setting things in motion inside her body that scared her. Who was he to have this much power over her?  
But he kissed her lips again, softly, lovingly, and she didn’t care.  
His fingers tugged at her waistband. In a smooth movement, Lockwood pulled her skirt and leggings off her legs. He continued his exploratory kisses across her hips. Little traces of his saliva remained on her thighs from where he kissed them, running his fingers along the delicate V-shape of her groin. She moaned, a pressure in her abdomen building.  
“What?” he cooed, sliding a leg between hers, knee pressing up against the apex. “Need something?”  
“Please,” she begged, rubbing herself against his knee. “Please, Anthony.”  
A long, clever hand dragged down her torso, slipping underneath her knickers. “It’s very wet down here.”  
“Maybe you should do something—about—”  
Her taunt ended in a taut gasp as Lockwood slid his fingers into her. “Something like this?”  
Her spine arched as he worked her gently, taking immense satisfaction in her moans and the rolling of her hips. He gave her a quick kiss before removing his fingers, flinging off his shirt, and sliding them back in at a deeper angle.  
“Oh God,” she gasped as her mind slid into a state of overwhelming pleasure. “More.”  
During their first time together, when Lockwood treaded with caution and not confidence, Lucy had thought that his fingers inside of her was the best thing she would ever feel. But now, with her hands clutching her iron headboard, as his calloused fingers rubbed against the best parts of her, she feared the pleasure would drive her mad. Her body started reacting instinctively as he added a third finger and pressed deeper, against all the spots he knew drove her wild. Her hips swayed in time with his thrusts, her head thrown back against her pillow, and her chest ached with restrained moans. No coherent thought could penetrate the waves of pleasure that rolled over her.  
The tension in her stomach was reaching its tipping point. Her toes curled and her legs ached. “Please,” she managed.  
“Hmm?” He adjusted himself so his face was even with hers. “Please what?”  
It was too late. Her thighs clenched forcefully against his relentless massaging, hips raising off the mattress. She whimpered as all the tension ripped out of her, her legs relaxing. Her mind smoothed, like it was just waking up from a wonderful and perfect nap.  
“Hey,” he whispered comfortingly, twisting to lay beside her as he wrapped his arms around her. “Hey, I’m here.”  
Lucy turned her head and found that her nose touched his. Her head slowly cleared as she listened to his even breathing. It always took her some time to come down from the high he brought her too.  
“Take them off,” she whispered.  
Lockwood immediately reached up and pulled the ribbons free. Her arms ached a little as she moved them, wrapping them around his neck, stroking his hair. He nuzzled against her neck, humming softly as drifted back down into her own body.  
“Good?”  
“Oh so very good,” she answered. “But you aren’t done yet, are you?”  
“Not quite. It’ll be very fast though.”  
“Oh?” Her hand reached down to the tent in his pants and gripped it curiously. “How fast?”  
He immediately groaned, biting his lip. “Maybe you should find out.”  
Lucy pushed him onto his back, straddling him this time as she threw open his pants button and zipper. His briefs were had a little wet spot on them. She wormed them out of the way, releasing his cock from its confines. She looked at the long, swollen shaft for a moment, considering her options, before gripping it firmly in her hand and stroking.  
He wasn’t wrong. Within seconds he was gasping, eyes heavy lidded as he looked at her, hands tangled in her hair. Lucy placed her free hand on the pillow next to his head as she sped up, smiling down at him as he writhed, thrusting shallowly against her hand.  
Lockwood gripped her face, bringing it down to his for an invasive kiss as his hips bucked up, moaning into her mouth as he spilled out over her hand and his torso. She kissed him gently, stroking his cheek as his breathing returned to normal.  
“That was almost as fast as that time in the shower,” she commented, laying down beside him, keeping her soiled hand on his messy abdomen.  
He laughed, wrapping an arm around her. “You have that effect on me.”  
She smiled to herself. “So, did you get your fill like you wanted?”  
He was quiet for a moment. “No.”  
“No?”  
“Nope. I’m realizing I’ll never get my fill of you. I think I’ll always want more.”  
Lucy lifted her head to look at his smiling face. “Always?”  
“I sure hope so.” He kissed her head. “Try not to ruin it, alright?”


End file.
